Cat Skinner Club

Cat Skinner May 19, 2009

This Never Went to Press

I am forcing myself to write this, which makes me angry, because I feel like this shouldn’t require an effort. I’m stretching myself too thin again, and its making me feel overwhelmed and uninspired, and I don’t even want to leave pieces of myself here, because it feels like too much to give away right now. But I feel guilty for not writing, and angry at myself because it isn’t coming to me naturally. I’ve always enjoyed coming into a person’s home for the first time. I think it’s fascinating, the way people reveal their private world to you, and…

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Cat Skinner May 7, 2009

Still, Centre, Quietly Turning

I’ve neglected my writing, my ficus is dead, my dog is angry with me because I haven’t been home all week, and my job is hectic enough right now that my boss went out and purchased our own in-office Bozo the Clown inflatable punching bag. Still, I must persevere, and share a morsel or two in the interest of communion. A fascinating new work colleague was kind enough to take me to a dance show tonight, and I wasn’t really into the first act, I will confess. I was tired, and kept fantasizing about my dog, and my pyjamas. The…

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Cat Skinner April 29, 2009

All the Poetry I’ve Been Missing

This week has been a struggle. I’ve had just enough energy to survive the work day, and all I care to do is come home and lay down. All of my resources are tapped, and there’s not an ounce of creativity in me. Several lovely people have pointed out that perhaps I need this time where absolutely nothing is going on. I suppose that’s true. I also need a money truck to back up to my patio and unload it’s contents. And I need an all-expense paid, month long vacation in Italy. And I need someone. Just a little. I…

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Cat Skinner April 26, 2009

Coming At You Live from the Sick Bed

*This entry contains more colourful language. What can I say? When I was little, whenever we would get sick, my mom would make us a sick bed. This would consist of draping a fresh, crisp sheet over the entire couch, and tucking it over us, then layering heavier blankets on top. She was also always at the ready with a fresh, cool pillow. A small footstool was at hand with Kleenex, a paper bag (for used Kleenex), a glass of ginger ale with ice and a straw, and sometimes a plastic bucket underneath. Today I’ve re-created this set up, sans…

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Cat Skinner April 24, 2009

Wake Up Call

This morning I woke up twenty minutes before the alarm because someone was ringing my doorbell, insistently. My sleepy morning brain conjured all of these scenarios that included hand-delivered coffee, or flowers, or both, so I got out of bed and answered the door, only to find my neighbour’s father at the door, ringing the wrong bell. He was picking her up for the airport, and she was not answering as he began pounding on the door to her apartment. It suddenly occurred to me that perhaps this man wasn’t her father at all. I went in my own place,…

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